


Engulfed

by rdmlily



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feloria is Miqo'te/Au ra btw, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, just a little, mild ptsd esqe triggers, two whole wols
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rdmlily/pseuds/rdmlily
Summary: Fate is cruel and can lead to the even crueler answers we thought we once sought.Alternatively, the sad and painful adventure of a small Miqo'te/Au Ra man
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. A Path Walked Alone, Tread Slower Still

When first they met in the Exedra, Feloria found himself trembling. The Echo had grabbed him fully out of the blue, and though brief, as it usually was, it gave him nothing but added confusion. Images from nightmares long subdued flooded into his mind, as if the gloved hand that had been extended to him was simply offering them to him. His mind raced with vivid wails, a burning against his skin, faces faded against the smoke. One obscured face echoed quite literally against the man, the Ascian, before him. As it did often when he was young, reflected against the familiar guise of the young Emperor, Solus. This Emet-Selch, Feloria only knew fear against the down turned scowl he was receiving, though if his mind caught it correctly, he could have sworn he say concern flash is the golden hues locked onto his face.

What could he possibly have to do with any of those since buried horrors? Why did they only haunt him so when this Ascian appeared in whichever form he took?

He shook his head quickly, eyes locking onto the now shrouded gaze across from him, any linger care Feloria might had read there was gone.

He must have been mistaken, fear laden into every pore of him, disguising his thoughts, the Miqo'te was surely incorrect.

That gaze also stilled his trembling hand, however. Even with its hidden sentiment, as he reached across the empty air of the Exedra to take the Ascian's hand in greeting, he felt at ease. A compelling thought urged him to, mind still a whirlpool of dizzying illusions.

A loud clunk of metal, a whoosh of palpable air, a blade stood squarely between the two. Feloria shook his gaze away from the proffered hand, his own flinching back, eyes drifting toward the owner of the sword. His long time Keeper companion, fellow Warrior of Light, Toraiq, stood with his claymore poised as easily as he himself might brandish his rapier.

"As compelling an offer of cooperation seems, you and yours have ever been our enemy. Forgive me if I seem curt in not allowing you the leisure of joining us so hastily."

The gloved hand dropped, eyes sliding from Feloria to pointedly glare at Toraiq. Feloria let out a held breath, though his mind still unrelentingly spun, the compulsion to continue to reach out, to touch, drove him into another dizzy confusion. Normally, he would reel away at an offering of contact. Something he couldn't put a finger on was compelling him forward instead now.

He didn't quite like that feeling, he decided.

Emet-Selch heaved a dramatic sigh as he stood upright, the following shrug hunching him back down ever slightly. "To brandish a blade at the offerings of peace, my oh my, you sure are a brazen lot. Nevertheless, the offer stands. We shall meet again soon, in the meantime," Feloria caught a passing glance from the Ascian as his eyes went from face to face, emotions shadowed more easily this time it seemed, "do consider my proposal. Until then."

With one last passing glance, Emet-Selch turned, sauntered away with a flick of his wrist in farewell, into an awaiting abyss.

The group remained silent save for the rustling of Toraiq's blade being holstered once more against his back. A few wanes of the unending Light above, and Alphinaud deemed to speak.

"That was certainly unexpected."

The group, save the Warriors of Light, all turned toward him, very much unamused.

Toraiq turned toward Feloria, a scowl marring his usual calm. It wasn't a look he gave his companion often, but this seemed a rather pressing concern. "You saw something, didn't you?" The grit in his voice caused Feloria to shift toward his left, away from the Miqo'te and toward Urianger. "Feloria now isn't the time to be lingering in anonymity."

Urianger's voice at his side provided a calmer inquiry. "I but only saw the look in thine eyes for a moment, though I doubt naught thou didst receive a glimmer of an Echo. My friend, thou must tell us, if it is of import." A lingering touch to his shoulder caused the Miqo'te to twitch, his heterochrome eyes flickering toward the Elezen to catch his lips drawing a thin line before removing his hand. "Pray, let us make sense of it together."

A sharp shake of his head lead to a collective sigh, one that fit to hit a nerve. "Lest you people forget," he started, fists clenching at his sides, "I'm the eldest among us, not some sniveling child with hurt feelings and rash emotions." Feloria glanced over toward Toraiq, who, under the searing heat of the gaze, looked toward the grand flooring of the Exedra instead. "I have my reasons for not telling you about certain Echoes, I would assume your trust in me would permit a sliver of anonymity. " He all but hissed the final word, and Toraiq once more looked as far from Feloria as he could.

Alisaie stepped from around Toraiq's chastised form, planting herself firmly before the man, hands on her hips, eyes locking with his. She stood there for a beat, and Feloria softened, letting her look as deeply as she wanted. Apparently the answers conveyed themselves well enough between the two, a silent conversation they were often wont to have to the dismay of the others, before she spoke. "We're to see the Exarch, we've wasted enough time worrying each other up and down like children." Feloria gave her a thankful look, to which she returned with a smile. "On we go then."

Without further discussion, the group settled to let the topic fall by the wayside in favor of heading toward the Ocular.

Thancred rushed up the stairs to speak with the guard, who near immediately let wide the doors to the tower, heading the group off now as they journeyed inside. Small talk was made amid themselves, though Feloria felt his mind traveling elsewhere, thoughts of fire and smoke clogging up the better half of his thoughts. He hardly noticed the tug at his top, the pull just enough to drag him away before the wailings started again.

Minphilia, or rather the Oracle, whichever she truly was, was holding on to the fabric of his top. Feloria couldn't help but smile a little sadly, she seemed like a lost child, clutching tightly to the cloth. How she had come to seek he and Toraiq, he knew not, but he couldn't help but oblige her curiosities and notions. "Is something the matter, Minphilia?"

Alisaie, just a step ahead, dropped back a pace.

"Uhm..." The blond paused, lips worried into a line, eyes looking from the Miqo'te, no doubt toward Alisaie. She shuffled her feet a bit as they walked, found the floor rather interesting for a spell, before looking up once more. "You said you were the oldest here.. Just exactly how old are you?"

Feloria blinked, unflinching at the cackling laughter that erupted from his left, which quickly turned to agonized whines when his fingers pinched the tip of a certain young Elezen girl's ear. He offered the confused young Oracle a smile. "Very old, but not so old that I can't keep up the youngest riffraff among us."

Round crystalline blues widened larger. "Are you a century old or something then? Like the Exarch?"

His smile turned all the more genuine. "A touch younger, the Exarch is, how should I say, a special case."

Alisaie's voice started to chime in, only to be replaced by another whine as her ear was assailed again.

Minphilia seemed even more eager, her voice holding a more curious lit as she spoke again. "And what of these?" She reached the hand the had been holding tight to Feloria's top to point to the alabaster scales decorating his cheeks and nose just under the smattering of freckles that dusted them as well.

"Well, my dear, they're commonly called freckles, most people do have them." The young blond flushed, a huff of indignant air passing her lips at the laugh he gave her. "They're scales, my dear."

"Scales... Mystel don't have scales though..." She eyed him incredulously, the Miqo'te giving her another chuckle before answering.

"My mother is a Mystel, my father is a Drahn, as they are called here. So naturally, I have, though few, scales of a Drahn as well as Mystel traits."

Minphilia nodded, seeming to understand. With it, Feloria turned his attention back towards the group, facing forward in order to focus on the hall they now walked in. Her hand reached up once more, tenative, as if to touch the scales upon his cheek as he had looked away and check their authenticity. Another hand met it though, Alisaie reaching about the male's back to take a firm yet gentle hold of it. There was a quick shake of her head, and a drop of her hand, to which Feloria, who saw the motion Minphilia then made, raised an eyebrow. His attention was quickly diverted once more by the guard, and both girls breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to ask.

The guard stood by as the doors to the Ocular opened, Feloria having turned his attention to Alisaie in the meantime while Minphilia hurried to Thancred's side once more. Though, upon entering the room, he found his sight obscured. Urianger had oddly enough placed himself in front of him, Alisaie's expression had darkened a shade, the other Scions had seemingly placed themselves about his person... Toraiq was standing at the front with Thancred. Every one of them alert.

A certain anger felt itself bubbling up again. To treat him with such frailty, after laying waste to and subsequently absorbing the Light of a Warden, two of them even, without as much as a check upon his well being, he almost felt insulted. As much as he wanted to step forth, another glance at Alisaie made it apparent why they had made such a blockade.

It was further clarified by a recently met yet familiar voice.

Feloria immediately felt his body reel, a stumbling step back gave him just enough purchase to see between the shoulders of the Scions. To see that intrusively familiar face, staring through his companions.

Sending him back into the fires.

As if on cue, Alisaie grabbed his arm, shaking him from one harshness to another. The feeling of skin on skin made him jerk away, but he looked over to her, thankful nonetheless for ripping him away from the waking nightmares. She gave him a terse nod, her eyes screaming "you will explain later", to which he sighed, exchanging a silent nod in return. If he should so have that moment later, he would tell her. He promised.

His attention drifted back toward the center of the Ocular, toward the face that had long haunted him, and took a deep breath. He attempted to steel his nerves, eyes drifting from form to form, one Scion to the next. When he stopped on Urianger, the Elezen spared a silent glance to him.

Feloria hoped his intentions spoke through to him. There was something he had to ask, something he had to know. This man, Emet-Selch, held something hidden about his own past, something that had plagued him for almost his whole life. He needed to try and piece it together. Proceed with his own path. He needed Urianger to step aside.

There was an awkward beat of silence. Urianger studied his features a second longer.

And then he stepped aside, leaving the path unobscured.

Feloria took a deep breath again, eyes drifting back towards the man in the center of the room. The man commanding attention, however unwanted, but nonetheless holding it firm. He took an unsteady step forward. One after the other, until he stood just fulms away from the slightly hunched over figure.

A flash of some sort of emotion, relief or something similar perhaps, dancing in the golden eyes that fixated on the Miqo'te. It gave Feloria a start, yet he willed it away. Now was not the time to research the eyes of his memories' enemy.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

A slow extension of his hand towards the ever enigmatic Ascian.

"You want cooperation, I, and I alone, offer that to you."

The room stilled into a silent shock, the air becoming thick with tension. Someone behind him shuffled, movements but a jerk reaction to something that seemed so suddenly decided no doubt. But Feloria raised his other hand. Bid them to cease whatever they had hoped to start. When nothing else came but a dark growl followed by a thickening of the tension dripping from the walls, still silent, Feloria dropped his hand. The outstretched hand trembled. He was, indeed, afraid.

Afraid of the past, the hidden explanations this man might offer him, truth or lies. The man who had haunted every terror, poured brimstone rains, echoed suffering cries.

There was nothing else to be done for it. Feloria had decided that long ago, and to have the object of those horrors before him now, as if willed by the Twelve.

He would grasp it steady until he found those truths.

The hand stayed empty, and the longer it hung there, the worse Feloria felt. Perhaps this was a mistake, in itself. His fingers curled in hesitation. Even now, he was nothing but filled with sorrowful fear. For all the waning years of it, he could see it beginning to unfurl. Yet he stood afraid, trepidations more likely than not clear across his face. Emet-Selch was watching him, gaze burning into him, studying him. He felt so small under that gaze, but with another breath, he flexed his hand out once more.

Firm.

"My, how curious... I wonder if your companions would really will you such kindness to act on your own."

Feloria grit his teeth, swallowing the anger that sentiment brought. Of course, to rouse him, Ascians were wont to do such tricks. He was not leashed to them, however. He would not allow this man to grip at wasn't there and attempt to pull at the reigns, Feloria would drive his own path.

His decision was his own.

"That concern is mine, not yours. I, too, seek to gain from a certain amount of cooperation, I will tell you forthright. They, however, do not."

Feloria could feel several eyes on him. Like white hot rays of the unsettling Light in the sky, they burned him. The only ones he focused on, however, were gold, quite melancholic in their depths, a foreign realization in that moment, as if the words ignited it.

Emet-Selch's eyebrows raised, arms crossing about his chest. Then his eyes slid closed for a moment. "How interesting, you do play your hand wide open, don't you?" With a single beat, Emet-Selch opened his eyes once more, uncrossed his arms, and placed his hand within Feloria's. "Very well, mayhaps you shall entertain me after all."

A firm shake, a coy grin sliding across the Ascian's lips, and Feloria felt his world tip.

The peaceful glint in his eyes was all but swallowed with fire, alight with molten gold. The gentle blue of the Ocular faded into pitch black, the screaming pain of the Echo unleashing unrelenting torment. His head felt as though it could explode, body crashing to the astral floor, and if the thrumming hadn't dulled his senses completely, he could have heard the scream he felt rip from his throat. The only thing he could feel, aside from the shredding of his consciousness, was the pressure against his hand.

Grounding him in the spiraling agony, was Emet-Selch.

All about him, terrors, monsters and beasts from the depths of which Feloria could have never imagine himself. They howled into the smouldering sky, extraterrestrial monstrosities tearing at the fabric of nothingness. No backdrop, only unbridled horror. Feloria felt the tears streaming down his cheeks crash against the floor, they rippled throughout the Echo like tidal waves.

And then he felt it, like claws sinking into his mind, into his flesh, the every fiber of his soul. Sharp crystalline talons fell, pierced the very essence of him. The pain was inconceivable.

They struck him to the core, his body slack, he begged silently, his own voice small and unwitting. Nothing seemed to reach anywhere as those spires crashed deeper into his being. There was no blood, no proof that he had be struck, only the visceral agony that made spots of his misty eyed vision. Breath came only in dry mouthed gasps, choked by tears. The pain only started to subside when he felt himself unfocus, the Echo hazing at the edges. His gaze quivered, desperate to search, drifting up to his hand where it stayed joined with another. Whose hand... They traveled up further, who was it...

Further...

A final searing, torturous pain shredded through his body, tearing his weak form away, masking the face just above him in a smouldering light.

He could feel the threads of his being fraying.

His vision fully dimmed. His hand went slack in the hold that still managed to cling so tight.

Until he couldn't feel it anymore.

His mind fell endlessly into slumber.


	2. Terrors That He Saw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> punches depression to finally finish this, more pain baybe

A searing light was what woke him, eyes knit tight against the intrusion that pierced through his eyelids regardless. Against the lull of darkness, it burned. Made him want for the return of its embrace. The phantom pains from the Echo throbbed in his bones, the Light he had felt tearing him to shreds still lingered in his muscles. His want for the Darkness was a want for relief.

His body protested movement, willing himself to find purchase against where he lay. Sensation returning slow but steady, his fingers danced feather light against the cool sheets of a bed, palm pressing into the mattress as he rose. The dull pain in the back of his skull rushed to the forefront as he pushed upright. The urge to vomit was overwhelming, nausea settling over him like a heavy blanket, it took everything in his power to not retch into the hand clasped over his mouth.

The pain was slow to subside, its persistence lingered around the edges of his consciousness. A slow crack of his eyes brought another wave of nausea, willing them to shut once more. A few slow, shuttering breaths against the cold air in the room, he tried it again. The dizzy spinning in his mind lessened all too slowly, but once he found that his feet were no longer spiraling at the edge of the bed, he pushed himself toward the edge.

Or where it should have been.

Feloria reeled back all too quickly, nauseousness hurtling forward at the movement, eyes finally opening wide. The floor of what he was about to assume was his room at the Pendants was nothing but an inky black whirlpool. A coalescence of shadowy violet veins and blood red swirls amid the darkness. Was he still dreaming? As far as he could tell he was no longer in the Echo, unless perhaps the pain had subsided in favor of showing him something else.

Nothing about this seemed to be any power of Hydaelyn's, however. It contrasted starkly against any envisioning Feloria had ever had in regards to the crystalline mother, Her Light did not breach this place. He sat there staring at the waves of dark movement for a moment more before letting a leg swing from the bed. It touched nothing, found no purchase of ground or floor, but a weightlessness not unlike the feeling within Hydaelyn's presence came, and so he swung himself about the bed. Unsteady legs dangled, his hands hesitated to push him away from his solid grounding.

He closed his eyes again, and stood.

The feeling of falling never took him, instead, though he had nothing to stand upon, he stood. Floated, rather. The same weightless motion. Feloria opened his eyes again, taking to looking about, see if there was any sort of surroundings to gauge. All was dark, a veil of light made it easy to distinguish the purples and reds that continued to blend and pulse within the abyss. A scowl took to his features.

Was this some sort of trick, he was locked away? Had the Ascian only ripped him from the Ocular to some place only he knew of? Was he dead, even? No, the pain in his body told him otherwise, and though Ascians were strong, could he had been so easily whisked away, in the presence of another Warrior of Light, the Exarch, and within the protection of the Crystarium? Something told him no to this as well.

Then, where was this?

Feloria took a testing step forward to see if willing his body forth would reward him with actual movement. A stale, stiff breeze seemed to confirm he was indeed moving. Everything looked the same, the tense silence made his ears hurt, there was no white noise, no eloquent hum like when he saw Hydaelyn. Just a resounding nothingness.

His stomach started to churn again. Nothing changed. The longer he drifted, the more everything stayed the same, the colder his blood began to run. A panic swelled in his chest. The silence deafened him. Nothing but the abyssal void presented itself to him. The swirls of color never reached out, never took hold, never offered anything.

A deep, longing sadness wormed it's way into his heart, the panic fading in its intensity. Still floating through the sea of nothingness, Feloria drifted, his body reflexively curling in on itself. Unlike the terrors that had plagued him for more than a century of life, this was more daunting still. Alone, truly. The worst of his fears, made manifest. Drifting in a sea of darkness.

What a terrible thought.

A flux of the abyss drew his attention back quickly, panic began to set in once more. Yet there he sat, watching the darkness open, a twisting tear in the nothingness. A form emerged, a cascading black robe trimmed with violet and edged in twinkling gold covering their every limb. A hood drawn over their eyes, a shroud of darkness leaving their face blank like the void. They stepped forth from the tear, stopping just short of his form.

An Ascian.

Feloria felt his throat close, his heart attempting to leap into it before dropping down into the pit of his gut. This probably wasn't a safe place to be, though the longer he stayed, the less afraid he felt. The faceless being lifted a golden clawed hand, Feloria felt no fear in the motion. He simply watched the claws reach into the robes, and grasp something. As delicately and with as much care as someone might grab something made of glass. His eyes followed the movements as the hand withdrew from the robes, and held so gently between their fingers...

A single purple orchid.

His favorite flower.

It was then that the pain struck him once more, prone form tucking into itself, hands flying to his head to thread into his hair and grasp it tight. Seeking some sort of grounding as it rocked him out of whatever peace he had been experiencing, blinding, searing light swallowing the image of the Ascian holding out the flower to him. Erasing it from the void before then taking the lulling abyss itself. He squeezed his eyes tight, willed the Light to leave him be, let him rest.

It screamed back angrily, howling like the Wardens, and shook his soul until it felt like it could shatter.

The next breath he took was a panicked gasp as he surged upright once more, lungs searing at the effort, eyes blown wide. The sights of the Pendants room ground his brain to a halt, the sudden bustling of footfalls and shouting disrupting his peace further. He felt about his person, patting his chest, his face, his legs.

He was awake. The pain in his skull dull with the speed in which he had risen, though persistent all the same. His lungs screamed for air that he tried to swallow down only for it to leave him just as quickly. There was someone speaking to him. They sounded so far away, lost in the hum of Light. Feloria could only stare forward, then at his hands, before slumping forward, curling in on himself once more.

A hand placed on his back grounded him, the tears and hiccuping sobs flowing free, disregarding whatever audience he may have had. There was little care to be had.

He only wanted, for some far unknowable reason, to grieve.

\---

After some couple hours, the atmosphere had settled, the emotions having flowed as freely as they could. Feloria was thankful for the few people in his room and the bowl of warm stew sitting atop a dark oak tray that he had still yet to touch. The smell alone was enough to give him a semblance of comfort. He studied it, for lack of anything else to train his eyes on.

There was no way he could look at them now. Not after that more than likely unseemly set of displays.

Urianger sat at the foot of his bed, Alisaie and Alphinaud sharing the table across the room, leaving the massive amount of healing to the older Elezen. According to him, Urianger had deduced that the very bits of Feloria's aetheric balance had been frayed in the unmistakably horrendous Echo that had been enduced by the Ascian. It seemed he had been in and out of sleep for about a day or two, in which times he would awaken, still entranced for more minutes, and they would hastily attempt to patch him up before the disparaged body would fall back to sleep.

The tinkling hum of healing magic filled Feloria's ears with a soft reprieve, the glow granting him peace. Calm. Quiet. He raised his hands just enough to lift the warm bowl from its tray and sip at the stew. A collective relieved sigh swept the room.

"I believe I hath done all I can, at present. That he should'st crave to eat at all is to say he hath the strength to try so. His aether still grants me pause, yet it appears to be healed enough to permit him movement." Urianger sounded like he was smiling, Feloria didn't dare to look though, eyes trained on the floating bits of vegetables.

Alisaie's voice came next, after a stutteringly broken sigh. Feloria felt his heart ache. "Good, good, at least he should be improving now." Her voice sounded pained, Feloria grimaced. Had she been crying?

"We should let the others know he is recovering apace. Alisaie would you like to-"

"I'm staying."

Alphinaud laughed, albeit a little sadly, before standing. The click of his boots grew closer toward the Miqo'te, though he still couldn't look. A feather light touch to his hand let him know the the young man was beside him. "It is good to see you awake, my friend. Pray, rest, and do not let Alisaie assail you so." An indignant scoff came from across the room, to which Feloria grinned, small but present.

His bed dipped, Urianger standing to leave with Alphinaud, a gentle pat to Feloria's leg in acknowledging farewell. Two sets of footsteps grew quieter, the door to the room groaned open, the fell shut, and the room as silent again.

Silent for long enough to make breathing hard once more.

Feloria placed the bowl back down on the tray, the small click booming in the tense quiet. After a few beats, he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He strained, but he could muster nothing. Mouth moving uselessly, he tried and tried.

And then he looked toward his young friend, and felt torn apart all over again.

Alisaie's eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed, she had indeed been crying. Crying over him, yet again. Her eyes were locked onto him like a reticle, like she was afraid to lose sight of him. Feloria felt his ears droop. She had already lost someone dear to her, and here he was, putting her through something else. At such a young age.. So much sorrow...

What a horrible friend he was.

Alisaie stood, shakily, from her seat, crossed the room in quick, definitive strides, and stopped at his side. Feloria looked at her, trying to read the stoic look in her eyes. He half expected her to smack him over the head, he wished she would, maybe beat some sense back into him. But she only stood there.

Another swift movement, she lurched forward, and Feloria braced for whatever violence he deserved to receive.

Only to be wrapped in shaking warmth, slender arms wrapping around his neck, tears and wails lost against his skin. Eyes wide, Feloria steadied the tray and bowl that threatened to fall onto her, and then returned the embrace as best he could before squeezing her tight. He let her cry, his own tears dripping silently in comparison into the snowy white of her hair. A few seconds of sorrowful silence, and then he spoke only to say, "I'm sorry..."

A sniffle or five and Alisaie managed to calm herself enough to reply with a curt, "You had better be, though what are you actually apologizing for."

Feloria frowned into her hair. "For leaving you alone, and then selfishly doing it.. again and again..." He felt his voice hitch, caught in the tightness of his throat, pressing his cheek against her hair. "I'm sorry I can't even keep that simple promise to you, after all this time..."

A trembling sigh, though much more steeled, and Alisaie pryed her way out of the Miqo'te's arms, taking a seat next to him instead. Feloria moved just so to let her sit comfortably. She studied her hands, he wondered what she saw there, eyebrows knit together. Not quite a scowl, but at least she wasn't looking like she was about to cry again.

"You don't need to be sorry about that, I understand full well why you decided to do what you did." Her voice was almost level, though it sounded strained. Just how long had she been crying... "What I don't understand, however, is what happened when Emet-Selch took your hand."

It was his turn now to scowl. "How do you mean?"

The young Elezen raised her brows, turning on the bed to properly face him, the look in her eyes made him worried. "The whole Ocular lit up, even the Exarch could hardly fathom what was happening. It was like a vision, and if Urianger surmised correctly, it was a vision of your memory."

Feloria went still. He could foggily recall the horror he saw before his apparent slumber, visions he had seen innumerable times in his life, yet this time with a vivid clarity. With searing, agonizing clarity.

Had they.. also seen it..?

"It was horrible," she started, "creatures I could hardly liken voidsent to, screaming and tearing at nothing. Fire, smoke, death..." A gentle hand rested on top of one of his, the incredulous look fading softly to concern. "Feloria, we saw you all but die, the only thing that let us believe you even still lived was Emet-Selch's word that you would awaken." Her lips drew into a terse line. "You breathed, yes, but so faintly..."

Feloria opened his mouth, though he didn't really know what to say. Was he to apologize again? What could he say? Another gentle pat to his hand brought his attention back to his companion.

"Do you... Feloria, how long have you seen those terrible, godsawful things..?"

A slow sigh, a quiet minute, his eyes searching the young Elezen's to keep himself calm. It couldn't stop the wetness from glossing over his eyes.

"A very, very long time..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my friends for keeping me going!! and my buddies on twitter to encourage me ; w ;


	3. Touch and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How had the Exarch, in his supposed age, ever climbed all these damnable stairs to the Ocular... This was more a hindrance than a convenience for sure.

The walk to the Ocular was taxing, to say the least. Feloria's every muscle was still screaming to return to its sleep, the rest he had for the past few nights had been a deception, as he needed to constantly remind himself. After he and Alisaie's discussion, Urianger had come back with Toraiq in tow, the Miqo'te visibly relieved as he saw the other sitting upright and aware. They had sat for a while discussing the next course of action. They were to go and look for Y'shtola, though there was, albeit, an another pressing issue. An issue that Feloria found himself revisiting as he walked, despite its end result.

_"You aren't fully recovered," Toraiq began, lips pressed into a thin line, "we think it would be in your own best interest to stay here, and let me handle the Warden in the Greatwood."_

_Feloria's eyes widened, but before the fervent refusal could manifest, Urianger spoke as well. "Thy condition is still increasingly unstable. Withal the influx of light, even with Her gift, thy very aether had all but unraveled to paint those... Most ghastly images in the Ocular. 'Twas as if something, a part of thee, had been laid bare, and thy body hath yet to recover fully."_

_Toraiq offered him no say still, "We need to discuss those things as well, but we hope to discover more during our venture to the Greatwood, so rest assured, and rest well." A firm pat to his shoulder, ignoring the pained scowl set onto Feloria's features. "We only wish to see you hale and whole when we return."_

And then they had left him there, had told the staff at the Pendants to make sure he hadn't left his room so that he could properly recover. It worked for about five minutes, before Feloria opted instead to steal away out into the hall and make a run for it. His anxiousness at his friends enduring the pain of Light suffusion, a pain he was growing too familiar with, drove him despite the fear of getting chastised. That, and the thought of having to be pent inside like a child drove him mad. It pushed him to hurry out of the room and toward the stairs, back tracking around the front desk to avoid the distracted manager. The markets were busy, as usual, and he tucked himself into the hustle and bustle of the midday crowds to make sure no one had seen him. The maids in the Pendants were ruthless, getting caught by one of them would be more painful than if one of his companions had. A shiver ran down his spine again at the passing thought, even in the relative safety of the markets.

Thankfully still, his friends had neglected to tell the guard at the base of the tower to deny him entry, probably having assumed he wouldn't have been able to leave. The guard offered to help him in, the inherent fatigue catching up to the Miqo'te as he ascended the stairs, but Feloria waved away the gesture. He needed to take his time regardless, to think. The guard had nodded, worry still plain on his face, and let him inside.

The walk, however, was very, very long. The halls leading to the Ocular were long and winding, stairs placed about just enough to seem like a hindrance rather than a convenience. How the Exarch, in his supposed age, climbed these passages was beyond him. Though, he supposed it didn't help that his condition was, at best, atrocious. The sensations of pain and fatigue would hit him every now and again, causing his legs to buckle after a flight of stairs. The heavy feeling in the back of his head spun the halls around, often making him wonder if he was still going the right direction. A pang of sharp aches would compound in his chest, his gut would twist and protest movement in time with his legs. Whatever had happened to him, it was still beating the seven hells out of him to say the very least.

"Ah, _hero_ , why I haven't seen _you_ in a few days."

The wall Feloria leaned against was more welcome than ever now as his body struck stock stiff against the ornate coolness of it. Panic immediately caused a dizzy sensation to take hold, eyes widening just a fraction before squeezing shut. His unoccupied hand, the one not clinging to the wall for dear life, pinched at the bridge of his nose to will away the disoriented feeling.

What the hell was _he_ doing here? Wandering about the Crystal Tower? Surely he could have just gone straight to the Ocular if he had wanted to pester the others.

Another wave of panic. What if he was here for him? No, couldn't be, he had already 'had his entertainment' apparently. Toraiq had mentioned the Ascian had all but reveled at the 'expected sights' with glee or something akin to it, before giving them instructions for Feloria's care and then departing as if he had done nothing besides. Perhaps he wished to torment him more. That seemed more plausible.

There was a shuffling of feet that drew Feloria's attention back to reality, the pressure in the back of his skull still banging around like a cast iron pan, but relieved enough that he could chance to open his eyes. Which he surely regretted. A sharp, startled intake of breath had him reeling, both hands pressed into the wall so hard he thought it might crack. The amused expression of one Ascian, bare ilms from his face, made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He was definitely just here to torture him.

"My, my, so jumpy. After agreeing to _your proposal_ , one would have assumed you would be less inclined to act so... frightened." A pointed sigh, one Feloria could just scarcely feel before Emet-Selch drew upright again.

Feloria looked as incredulous as possible, aside from the grimaces of pain. "After whatever you did, you expect someone to be _cordial_? I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, ancient being Emet-Selch."

A look of distaste crossed his features. It was clear that this wasn't the topic he was landing toward, but Emet-Selch simply shrugged either way, before offering a hand. Feloria made a point to look from the proffered hand, and back to the Ascian as if to ask if he was joking. Another displeased sigh. "Under pretense of cooperation, I could, I suppose, at the very least offer you some _assistance_ in your grand escape." His other hand motioned about the hall they stood in, his expression rather bored. "You bumbling about like a wounded babe is tiring."

"And who, pray tell, wounded the babe, _Ascian_."

As soon as the hissed word left his lips, Feloria saw a flash of something in Emet-Selch's eyes, something akin to... guilt? There was a minute downturn at the corners of his mouth, but the motions were steeled the next second, as if nothing had happened. "Yes, well, it wasn't just to _wound the babe_ , but that is not a discussion for the here and now." Emet-Selch pointedly shook the outstretched hand once, drawing Feloria's attention back to it.

For a few seconds, he worried at his lip, but the tired aching in his muscles willed him to accept whatever help they could take. So he reached forward, mind steeled, and took the waiting hand.

Nothing came but a surprisingly gentle pull to right his body against the wall, guide him a few stumbling steps in the center of the walkway. Then it was gone, only to be replaced square onto his back, to steady him.

This gentleness was more confusing than the infernal pain the Ascian had wrought him days before. Feloria secretly wished he could have seen what mysterious expression he wore this time, but he was guided along with some haste, featherlight touches just enough to keep him upright.

Truly confounding.

The following walk to the Ocular was in silence, whether that was good or bad was unknown. What could possibly warrant not only a persistent aid, but silence? From someone who, for what little time he knew him, seemed to relish in magnanimity? It wasn't as though the silence was uncomfortable however. Quite the opposite really, the slow trudge to the great ornate doors of the Ocular seemed to grow easier as they went along. His muscles were probably just becoming used to the motions again, though the lack of insistent pain seemed to just add to his confusion. There was also an odd tingling along his spine, but he chalked it up to the varieties of tiredness finally shaking away.

Feloria had chanced to look back and see if Emet-Selch were even still there once, only to receive a single snide remark that deadpanned his expression, wishing he'd never bothered.

Once the doors to the Ocular were visible, a thought dawned on him. Why had no one left yet? Surely they weren't still talking, as far as he could recall from a map, Rak'tika Greatwood wasn't too far from the Crystarium. What could they be possibly talking about?

His thoughts derailed once more as the touch against his back disappeared, in favor of holding a barring arm in front of him. Feloria stuttered to a halt, and watched Emet-Selch walk from his pace behind him. He silently motioned to the wall, and though once again confused, Feloria stood by it, arms over his chest. Emet-Selch raised a finger to his lips, a silencing gesture, before turning and casting the grand doors aside with as much flourish as he could.

Feloria could have groaned at the false grandeur.

He also took note of how the doors seemed to hide the fact that he was there. What was Emet-Selch's gain from this...

Before the doors swung closed, the reason why no one had left became apparent, the Ascian declaring a sarcastic sounding apology for keeping them waiting for their "guest of honor". He had something "important to attend to" he claimed, and if Feloria wasn't sure he was seeing things, he'd have thought he saw the Ascian glance at him subtly.

He tried to ignore the burning in his cheeks, maybe he was getting feverish again. That was probably it.

The grand doors fell closed and the hall he was left to stand in was silent again. It left Feloria to his insistent thoughts, for which he was surely grateful for. The scene in the Ocular had been seen by everyone present, though of course, only effected him physically. Trying to remember the moments of it came as a foggy haze. It was as if his mind was barring him from seeing it again.

Funny how that worked out. After a near lifetime of its torment, now it decided to fuzz it up. He clicked his tongue idly.

Trying to also recall the Echo from his slumber came up empty, much to his frustration. Though, he wasn't entirely surprised by that, seeing as how a blinding flash of Light had engulfed the private scene. A grimace etched into his features. Hydaelyn didn't want him remembering that. But, why? Any and all memories she had previously stolen from him bared no semblance to this. Was it because Emet-Selch had induced it?

It was also unlike most if his Echoes from the past, wherein he would see himself through the eyes of those who's memories of him he was seeing. A strange introspection, but this one had been him, watching an Ascian. Was that supposed to mean something? Was it supposed to had been Emet-Selch he had seen? The questions just began to make his head hurt again, and he willed them away before they could make a mess of his peace.

What of his friends? Had they had anything happen in his time asleep, though none of them possessed the Echo, minus Toraiq, perhaps something akin to the Exarch's summoning had occured... Though the more he thought on it, the less it made sense, but surely, if they had seen what he had...

Did it mean anything to them?

The groaning of the Ocular doors pulling him from his thoughts, the large entry only opening enough to permit one Emet-Selch from sauntering his way towards him. He said nothing, though the look on his face was rather amused.

Feloria didn't like the prospect that brought.

Without so much as word directly to him, the Ascian took a firm hold of one of his wrists, and carted him along like a ragdoll. How strong was this man, hunched over and all, thousands years old? Another prospect he didn't want to dwell on. It was far too terrifying to imagine.

"Well, my friends, before we head on our wonderous journey, I've but a stipulation." Feloria was held just behind the door now, and he increasingly hated what was happening. Another wry smile against Emet-Selch's lips. "My _cooperation_ is indeed tied to the condition that _he_ ," the unceremonious tug at his wrist caused Feloria to stumble forth into view, poised right beside the infuriating man who then motioned to him with a sweep of his other hand. "Comes right along with us. After all..."

Emet-Selch was looking toward him now, and as Feloria's eyes panicked across each Scion's face and then up at the Ascians, he felt as though he would melt into the floor. The pools of molten gold were near indescribable, the emotion in them too complicated and obscure for the Miqo'te to sort it out. All he knew was that it made the panic drift away, the notion only wrenching a knife into his gut in confusion when Emet-Selch looked away. The Ascian gave Feloria's wrist a small shake to draw the attention that had wandered from the group back to himself.

"It _was_ this warrior, who agreed his sole cooperative, no?"

The sensation of eyes burning into him felt as familiar as it had before. Searing gazes locked onto him much like they had when Feloria first offered said cooperation, he suddenly felt very small. He didn't dare look toward his companions as he righted himself, as he simply stood there, eyes cast away from any one person. They trained onto the floor, if he looked now, surely he'd see nothing but disappointment.

When no words came, and only the sounds of approaching footsteps echoed through the Ocular, Feloria flinched. The heavy shifting of metal clanking against armor deafened him, even without looking he knew Toraiq was the one heading towards them. It stopped just short of where they stood, Feloria could see just the ends of his shoes, eyes still cast to the floor.

"I don't give a single Twelves-damned onze about your stipulations, we have work to do. _You two_ ," oh, how the hissing of those words made Feloria simply want to die on the spot, "may do as you damn well please. Just stay out of the way." The brisk burst of wind that passed him by as Toraiq marched into the hall was unusually cold. It settled into Feloria's bones, made him wish that maybe he had stayed in the limbo. The only warmth to be had was the still insistent touch on his wrist.

More footsteps approached, but words were never exchanged. The only one who offered any insight was young Minphilia, who had trailed just behind Thancred to stop before Feloria and Emet-Selch. "We're heading to Rak'tika, the twins are going to Amh Araeng and Kolusia... Feloria?" The Miqo'te in question finally chanced a look up, meeting sparkling crystal eyes. "Are you sure you're well enough to travel all the way to the Greatwood? Maybe I can talk to Thancred if you aren't!"

A gentle smile shoved aside the pained scowl he had worn previously, his free hand cupping the girl's cheek. She reminded him so much of his lost friend, so kind and gracious. He stood there for a few seconds before letting his hand drop again, smile faltering just a touch. "That won't be necessary, but I thank you, Minphilia."

Minphilia gave a quick nod before running around the two men to catch up to the others.

Feloria's eyes were forced to find the Exarch next, who, as always, seemed to hold an air devoid of readable emotion. How he and Emet-Selch did that so often was infuriating. He was speaking to Alphinaud about something important, by way of his thoughtful gestures. Something he shouldn't interrupt so selfishly, as was his apparent wont lately.

A swift tug at his wrist caused Feloria to stutter in place, attention back on the hand's owner. Another unreadable expression. He was growing tired of this.

"Now, shall we, hero? T'would seem we are being left behind, despite you being their _vessel_."

Feloria's mood soured visibly, yanking his hand away from its, surprisingly, none too tight prison. A range of emotions too complex to sort through raced through his mind, though one seemed to steel to the forefront.

Contempt.

"Truly a fine display, Ascian, but as you say. The _vessel_ is being left behind." A quick turn on his heel, a bid to ignore whatever expression had washed through those damned golden eyes, and he made his leave. Body protesting or not, he still was supposed to be with his companions. At least, if they still saw him as such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emet might have been a little ooc and soft but you know what? That's fine. Anyway! Hope y'all liked it


End file.
